


where did you go?

by whataboutmycape



Series: i see stars in you [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, fictional illness, unrequited freewood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataboutmycape/pseuds/whataboutmycape
Summary: i will not let go of my pain if that means letting go of you.





	where did you go?

**Author's Note:**

> this wouldn't leave me alone, i'm so sorry. would make tons more sense if you read the first fic in the series before reading this. basically this is an expansion on gav with hanahki.

Geoff stays up until odd hours of the morning reading every article he can get his hands on. He pours over medical journals, obscure blog posts - runs himself rampant googling every phrase he can trying to find something, _anything_ , that they can work with.  

It takes him a couple days, but eventually Geoff finds a name to go with the symptoms. _Hanahaki_. The word glares up at him from the too-bright screen of his phone and in the three AM quiet, Geoff lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding.

With a name, it’s easier to find more viable sources and more information. Geoff still stays up late, but now it’s a more driven search. He knows there isn’t much time left, watches Gavin like a hawk now and every day seems impossibly worse than the last, but fuck it if Geoff isn’t going to try everything he can to make this right.

The thing is, though, he isn’t stupid. Geoff knows this isn’t a movie, knows that there won’t be a miracle cure.

At first, Geoff was eager to share everything he found with Gavin. He would come in with the notebooks he’s been filling and he would spread all the pages out for Gavin to read, but Gavin would just grow sullen and agitated and after a while, he refused to even look at the notes or to talk about it at all with Geoff, and it scared him so much that Geoff just stopped entirely.

Not research, though. Geoff never stopped trying to find any scrap of information he could. He just stopped telling Gavin about it.

&

As Gavin started to get worse and worse, it got harder to hide from the guys that something’s wrong.

It starts to fall apart a week after Gavin tells Geoff, when they’ve been filming all day and Gavin hasn’t stopped coughing since this morning. The guys teased him about it at first, but as the day wore on and the coughs become more watery and more frequent, the joking tones were set aside and over and over again they were asking Gavin if he was alright.

Each time, Gavin waved them off with a smile and a weak laugh, pushing the blame on just a cold, saying it was no big deal. Geoff gritted his teeth, but he let Gavin slip by with the lie, knowing he didn’t want to tell anyone else. At least not yet.

It comes to a head when, in the middle of filming Minecraft, Gavin pushes himself away from his desk and quite abruptly flees from the room. His hacking is so loud they can hear it echo as he makes his way down the hall, most likely heading for the bathroom. The five remaining guys fall silent, staring around the room, looking at each other to gauge what’s happening.

It’s Geoff who stands, leaves the room and stops the rest of them from following, saying that he’ll take care of it.

The truth is that Gavin is dying and it’s starting to show. 

&

When Gavin tells the rest of Achievement Hunter, he doesn’t give them any concrete information. He knows it’s a selfish, bitter thing for him to do, but this part of him begs for him to be selfish. He tells them that there is something wrong, and he tells them that there is no cure. He avoids Geoff’s eyes when he says this, but he doesn’t miss the way Geoff flexes his fingers before squeezing them into fists. 

The guys are unbearably emotional. Gavin will not begrudge them this, though. While he has known for years that he is dying and he has had time to come to terms with it, he knows that this is incredibly shocking for them all.

It’s hard for him to deal with, too.

Before, when no one knew what was wrong, Gavin could almost pretend that he was okay. Sure his chest would still hurt and his throat would feel raw and every couple of hours he would need to situate himself somewhere to heave out fully grown flowers and leaves and petals, but he never truly grasped the fact that he was dying.

For Gavin, he took each day as he was given it. He didn’t count them, didn’t feel like he was running out. The more people he tells, though, the more Gavin feels like he is pushing his limit.

Michael is angry. He is furious that Gavin has just been sitting here for months, suffering, and there’s nothing that any of them can do. He becomes Geoff, for a little bit, researching any kind of rare diseases he can, but he doesn’t get very far. Because unlike Geoff, Michael has _nothing_ to go off of, he has no idea what is wrong with Gavin - other than the fact that it is incurable, and that it will kill him. Michael feels useless.

Jeremy gets quiet, and he gets softer. He doesn’t treat Gavin like he’s glass, but he does make sure that he’s drinking enough water, that he’s not pushing himself too hard to record for so long without breaks. Like the rest of them, Jeremy is upset at the unknown deadline that is now suddenly hanging over Gavin’s head, but he knows it is hardest for Gavin. He tries to show that if there’s anything he could do to help, he would do it in a heartbeat and without a second thought.

Jack becomes even more of a presence in the office. In the lull inspired by Gavin’s confession, Jack takes it upon himself to be the group's rock, becoming the person they turn to if something becomes too much to handle. For Gavin, it means he knows he has someone that will always listen to him without trying to gently shush him and tell him everything is going to be okay. Jack doesn’t lie to him, and for that Gavin is grateful.

Ryan is killing Gavin slowly, both literally and figuratively, because Ryan is being so fucking great ever since Gavin told them what was happening, and Gavin is still so fucking gone on him. Every time Ryan asks him if he's okay or brings him a bottle of water or pushes a box of tissues over to him from the other side of his desk or smiles at him over their monitors or pats his head and tells him it's going to be okay even though it's _not_ and it's never fucking going to be because Gavin loves him and it’s killing him and -  

Gavin is hyperventilating. He was sitting at his desk, editing a Slow-Mo Guys video, when he started coughing again and he's just been getting so damn sick of having to get up every few hours now to hack and wheeze and empty his stomach. He remembers Michael looking over at him, eyes sad and worried and he looked half ready to jump out of his seat, like Gavin was going to die right then and there, and Gavin was just filled with such frustration. His hands shook as he clenched them into fists and he ground his teeth together and told himself he wouldn't get up now, no matter what. He couldn't bear to see them all turn and look at him like that again as he ran from the room.

Now, Gavin is choking. He can't see anything and he is tearing at his own throat, blindly trying to claw through skin and muscle and bone, like if he tries hard enough he can reach right into his chest and just yank all the weeds out.

Someone is grabbing his hands. He can hear yelling, but it sounds so far away, almost like he's underwater and someone is yelling for him above the surface. Somewhere, Gavin is afraid. He knows he has to cough, that he has to get everything out or else he won't be able to breathe, but he can’t. He can't open his mouth, they can't see him, _they can't know -_

Someone is grabbing at him, at his face, his chin. Strong hands force his mouth open. Gavin retches.

&

The office is quiet when Gavin comes to, curled up on the couch underneath a nest of blankets. He is silent for a moment, and still. The pain in his chest and his head and his throat is what makes him finally shift, as he opens his eyes and tries to sit up, looking for a bottle of water.

Almost immediately he can hear a chair rolling across the floor as someone comes around to help.

When Gavin looks up he sees Jack, crouched down to eye level, one hand coming up to steady Gavin as he shakes and the other holding out a water bottle. The room is quiet as Gavin sits up slowly and takes small, cautious sips.

It’s quiet because, as Gavin finds out, it’s absolutely empty. The only people in the office currently are himself and Jack - 

Jack, who is still holding onto Gavin’s shoulders, holding him together, and looking for the first time through this whole ordeal like he has been crying. Gavin shudders through a breath and his throat is just so raw, so abused, that he is aching. He both wants to and can’t bring himself to cough again, fighting between clearing the tickle in the back of his throat and also knowing that coughing is only going to hurt him even more.

Jack is still quiet when he shifts over and reaches into the office mini fridge and scoops out some ice chips, and that’s how the next twenty or so minutes goes, the office suspended in a sort of hush as Gavin sits, huddled, on the couch and Jack stays close, an assured presence just in case -

Just in case this really is the end. Just in case Gavin chokes again. Just in case he can’t do this on his own.

Gavin doesn’t ask where the rest of the guys are. He doesn’t have to.

&

Geoff comes into the office some time later. Gavin has moved back into his desk chair, sans blankets but still cradling a cup full of ice chips. Jack has given him his space but he is still noticeably there, his monitor shifted so that Gavin can see him easily across their desks. They are both quiet, which makes Geoff’s entrance even more pronounced.

The weird thing is, Geoff knocks.

He knocks before coming into the office, into _his own office_ , and Gavin knows it’s Geoff because no one else does the same stupid little chime whenever they knock - the classic “shave and a haircut” knock, but backwards, because Geoff is a “true visionary” - and there’s about ten seconds of dead air, Gavin spinning around, confused, before the door opens.

And yeah, it is Geoff, but it’s also Michael and Jeremy and _Ryan._  

Jack stands up at his desk, but Gavin barely hears it, because he’s locked eyes with Geoff now and he looks absolutely wrecked. His eyes are red and swollen, worse than when they watched Titanic with Griffon, and he looks so small and _crushed._  

“Gav? How are you feeling, buddy?” It comes from Geoff in the form of a question, but it sounds more like a sigh of relief.

Relief that he can even ask Gavin, that he’s still here, that’s he’s capable of answering.

“Well, you know. I’ve been better,” the answer is short, but it still scratches at the back of Gavin’s throat. Forming the words is almost like pulling teeth, and Gavin doesn’t miss the way Michael visibly flinches at the harsh sound of his voice.

Geoff’s shoulders drop impossibly lower as he says “I think we need to have a talk. The full six of us. If you’re up to it…?”

The question trails off, and Gavin closes his eyes.

He knew a day like this was going to come, but he wishes he just had more _time._  

&

When Gavin tells everyone the truth, he doesn’t give them the name of the disease that is killing him. He still, selfishly, hoards a few details, holding on to some things for as long as he can.

He knows, inevitably, they will all find out more about his illness than even he knows. Geoff may have stopped showing him all the notes he gathers, but Gavin would be stupid to think that he’s stopped researching all together, and he knows the guys will follow right behind him.

So Gavin is selective with what he shares. He tells them about the garden in his lungs, the yellow tulips that are overwhelming his respiratory system. Explains that he’s been coughing and coughing and coughing because he needs to get the petals out, and as he goes on longer and longer living as an eternal greenhouse, the worse his condition gets. He places a hand over his chest and maps out the canal system of roots digging their way through him to make a home in his rib cage. He tries to put into words the rattle he feels on each intake, the feeling of seeds and leaves and whole flowers blowing around inside of him.

He spares them the gory details, the late nights spent pulling up whole stems, bent over the toilet and heaving, fingers down his throat so he can hook and _pull._ Leaves out how much it just hurts sometimes, the ache of something inside of him that simply shouldn’t be there. Skirts around the fact that he’s been dealing with this for years.

He doesn’t tell them his tragic love story. He sees enough pity in their eyes to last a lifetime. He knows there’s nothing they can do, anyway.

He tries to minimize the details so he can spare them, in the end. Maybe it will hurt less if they know less. Just maybe they’ll forget he’s even sick.

Maybe.

&

Gavin only gets worse from then on. He can’t even get through recording one video without heaving. He’s started keeping a bin under his desk instead of relying on running to the bathroom. The guys are trying to be understanding, trying to encourage him to get it out as soon as it starts to bother him, but Gavin is stubborn.

He refuses to use the bucket, refuses their help and their comfort, refuses to let them see him so weak. He knows, logically, he’s only hurting them more by doing so. But Gavin is so fucking fragile right now, he doesn’t know if he can take it. 

Some days he wishes he would just die so he doesn’t have to see them cry anymore.

& 

Geoff knows it’s wrong to go so far behind Gavin’s back, but they’re all so, so desperate.

They each take chunks of websites, split up all of the long and droning medical journals, assign sections to research so that they can get through it just that much faster.

It’s four in the morning when Geoff finds something that makes him stand up from his chair so fast he topples the damn thing over, jams a fist in his mouth so he doesn’t yell, and resists the urge to immediately call the guys.

He knows he can’t tell any of them what he found.

He needs to talk to Gavin.

& 

Gavin hates the look in Geoff’s eye. He knows it, knows the false hope that’s living in there all too well. He tries to avoid him at all costs, but Geoff corners him when they break for lunch and Gavin really doesn’t have any pressing commitments today, so he has no way out of going to lunch together.

In a record breaking show of will, Geoff waits until after their food comes to say anything.

“I know you know that we’ve all been trying to find a cure.” He pauses, and Gavin gives him a small nod, picking at the fries on his plate. Geoff clears his throat and continues, “I found something, honestly I did, and this time it looks like the real deal. They have a doctor on the border that will do it, and I’ve already looked into everything, Gav, I spent hours researching the risks, the procedure, the cost, any alternatives-”

“Geoff, _please!”_ Gavin drops his sandwich and smacks both of his hands onto the table. His head is hanging and his shoulders have grown more and more slumped with every word out of Geoff’s mouth. He is just so damn tired, of everything.

Of this.

Geoff runs a rough hand through his hair. They’re both breathing loud and haggard, both looking worn down and distraught. When the silence breaks, it’s Geoff saying “I know, Gav, but trust me, this one will work. I know it will.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything, but he does lift his eyes. Geoff looks about as tired as Gavin feels, but there’s a light in his eyes that Gavin hasn’t seen since he told Geoff about how sick he is. Gavin nods his head and Geoff continues.

“It’s a surgical procedure, they’re going to have to put you under to sever the roots from your bones. They can’t pull it all out, but if they can kill the roots, the plants will die. After you cough up what’s left in your lungs it - it can’t grow back. You’ll be free. You’ll be _alive.”_

Gavin sweeps his eyes down, presses a hand against his chest, against his throat. “There has to be a catch, Geoff.”

And Geoff sighs, he knew this was coming, and gears himself up to give an answer. “When the plant dies… so will some of your memories. Specifically, your memory of the person who inspired the flower in the first place. You won’t remember meeting them, or ever even knowing them, and you certainly won’t love them anymore.” Geoff’s voice is low, soft, and so when Gavin sucks in a quick, harsh breath it is loud in comparison. 

“Geoff, I can’t-” Gavin is sitting ramrod straight now, but he has not looked up. His hands have moved to grip the edge of the table so hard his knuckles are white. Geoff is leaning in close, voice still low.

“Gavin, it’s the only way, I know it. I’ve been researching for _months,_ Gavin you’re dying and this is the only thing that will save you, please-” and he’s talking so quick, like he wants to get it out before Gavin can even shake his head, and he sounds so broken, so beat down, but Gavin can barely even hear him over the pulse pounding in his head or the rattle in his lungs as he sucks in breath after breath like he’s drowning.

Maybe he is.

Maybe -

“Geoff, _I can’t.”_

And Geoff crumples like a rag doll. His elbows hit the table, hard, and his head is in his hands. Gavin is still gripping onto the edge.

“I can’t…”

&

Gavin films his goodbye video on a tuesday in July.

When he tells the guys what he’s going to do, they are all quietly angry. Gavin knows they are upset, knows they still aren’t ready to say goodbye, to come to terms with everything. But Gavin has had six years to come to peace with this inevitability, and he knows he doesn’t have much time left.

In the end, they give him an hour alone in the office to film. No one could bear to sit there while he talked like he was already gone. No one was ready to hear it.

&

When Gavin dies, he is alone. He is not scared. He calls Geoff beforehand, his chest constricting and his voice leaving him as he talks. He is not in pain. Geoff is crying. 

&

The office is quiet. No one is there. Gavin was buried today. 

They’re all at Geoff’s house, six turned into five, and they are _wrecked._  

From the time between death and burial, everything happened so fast, everything was so structured, there wasn’t any room to well and truly mourn. Their grief hadn’t hit them yet. Even at the wake, staring at Gav, yellow tulips in his hands, it didn’t feel real for any of them.

For months, they were all confronted with the certainty of this moment, but somehow, they all had it worked into their heads that it wasn’t going to happen. It _couldn’t_ happen. Right?

The room is too quiet.

Michael slams an empty bottle down onto the table. It wobbles, but doesn’t break. There’s two seconds of silence before the bottle is hurled at the wall.

“FUCK!”

Maybe, maybe, maybe -

Jeremy kicks one of the larger shards of glass. It catches the corner of a cabinet and tumbles, rolling across the floor. In the aftermath, he slams his foot into the island, over and over, beating the marble.

_Maybe -_

Jack is quiet when he gets up from the table and heads outside. Ryan is quiet when he follows. Together, they dig through Geoff’s shed, combing the shelves for something specific, something _loud_.

Maybemaybe _maybe_ -

Geoff doesn’t drink. It’s almost worse, now, that he doesn’t. There’s nothing to shut up the voice in his head, the echo of memories, the ghost of Gavin that’s now rattling around in his mind.

He looks up, looks at the rest of his boys, and finds a disaster. He doesn’t know how to fix it, and he’s terrified. He doesn’t know what to do.

When he stands, Jeremy and Michael follow him outside. The three of them are standing close, watching Jack and Ryan as they set something up. It’s hard to see, the only light pouring in from the street and the occasional sweep of headlights around the corner, but it’s enough to see their silhouettes, to watch as they finally step back, happy with whatever they’ve done.

Ryan comes over and sits down in the middle of Geoff’s backyard. They all follow, sitting damn near on top of each other, seeking comfort and solace in the form of contact. They watch as Jack pulls something out of his pocket, fiddles with it and then whatever he and Ryan have set up.

When he’s done, he joins them in their pity pile; squeezes right into the middle, nestled between Geoff and Ryan. They’re all laying back, a heap of broken people staring up at dying stars. Quietly, Geoff looks for any constellations he recognizes, remembers the ones that Gavin used to show him.  

The first firework is a surprise. It whistles up and pops right above them, loud in the unassuming silence, but beautiful in the way it sizzles and fizzes and rains down. Geoff finally feels his bones settle, lets out a breath he was unaware he had been holding.

Laying there, with their show, they say goodbye to Gavin in their own way. It’s a weight they can all feel pressing down in their chest, a sound that they can feel in their blood. A moment they will never forget, for a person they will always remember.

Gavin is gone. They will heal.

**Author's Note:**

> if i have emotionally hurt you like i have hurt myself, come bother me about it on tumblr @haywoodukillme


End file.
